Shades of Sydney (Sydney West #1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Cruising through the streets of California was kind of lonesome. I saw families and groups of friends litter the sidewalks. Not much about Malibu had changed. There were still the overly tanned girls wandering the streets in bikinis, guys thinking they were badass in their shorts—they usually weren’t—and of course tourists. Tourists were the worst. They were too damn slow.

I stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to play with my iPod, finding the perfect song to fit my mood. When my light turned green, I couldn’t go because two tourists decided to piss me off. A woman and her husband, wearing fanny packs, of all things, walked across the street right when the light changed. They were too busy looking at street signs, a tablet, and turning around to survey the area to notice they were in my way. I honked at them so they’d move faster and they sneered at me, standing there like it was the X on their map.

It took all my strength to not get out of my car and show them how much of a bitch I could be. My tight grip on the steering wheel turned my knuckles white. Finally they continued across the crosswalk. They made me miss the green light. I cursed at them under my breath. When the light turned green again, I floored it. I wasn’t waiting for anyone else.

To ease my mind, I visited the record store I always went to while in California. It had the best variety of music from all types of genres and decades. After buying two new CDs, I went to the ice cream place next door and ordered my favorite. No matter what kind of day I was having, Snickers ice cream could make me happy again.

***

My phone buzzed by my head. I was having a good dream about being front row at an Emilie Autumn concert. The call had better be important or I was going to have someone’s head.

I looked at my alarm clock. It was one in the morning. Who was calling me so late? Usually I was doing the calling around this time, not the other way around.

“Hello?”

“Sydney, can you come get Amelia?” a male voice asked.

“Who is this and what did you do with her?” My voice dripped with anger. No going back to dreamland now.

“This is Hunter. Amelia is fine, honest. She just needs to go home.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Why can’t she stay with you?”

“I’m at a friend’s house and they don’t want anyone staying after dawn.”

“Why can’t you drop her off here?”

“You ask too many questions. She’s higher than a kite. I didn’t know she never smoked weed before.”

I smacked myself on the forehead. I should’ve stayed with her. What was wrong with me? Leaving her with strangers…what a horrible friend I was.

To calm myself, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. What’s the address?”

He told me and I hung up before I could say something I’d regret.

Why in heaven’s name did Amelia end up there? I knew why. She wanted to be like me. Should I treat her as if she’s six and tell her to do as I say, not as I do?

I was going to pick her up in my PJs, but thought it would’ve been embarrassing if I had to get out of the car and help her outside. There was no way to know how many people were still at that party and I didn’t want them to see my puppy print nightgown. I changed into some blue jeans and slipped on a bra and black shirt. A yawn escaped from me as I stepped into a pair of flip-flops.

It was time to fetch my friend.

Turning onto the street Hunter told me to, I found the house easily. It was the only one all lit up and had people coming in and out of it like foam from a rabid dog.

I had to park five car lengths away from the house. I pulled out my phone and called Hunter. He answered on the second ring, claiming to be headed my way. I told him I was waiting and hung up.

To get Amelia faster, I got out of my car and tried to find her in the swarm of bodies. It was hard with all the people. I was tempted to climb onto the roof of my car and look for her, except I had a fear some lowlife would throw something or shove me, making me come crashing down to earth. I wasn’t in the mood to beat some asshole.

In the distance, with the aid of a couple streetlights, I saw someone with shiny brown hair. Her head was bowed and she was only moving thanks to the two guys holding her up. To her left was Hunter. He whispered something to Amelia and turned to look at me. His eyes became sulky. He didn’t like seeing me. I was angry and had no problem expressing it. My body radiated rage, from my crossed arms over my chest to my lips in a firm line. Nothing about me was friendly.

Unfortunately for me, the guy to Amelia’s right was Jason. Even from a distance, I could see his muscles at work. I took in his hair, his strong clenched jaw, and tight chest. Chest? I quickly moved my eyes back to his so I could concentrate on his face. If I looked at his body, my body might react in a way I didn’t want it to.

“We’ll help her into your car,” Hunter said as they passed by me.

I rushed to the car and opened the back door for them. They laid her inside gently and came to stand in front of me. I shut the door and leaned against it, frowning at them.

“Do I even want to know what happened tonight?”

Hunter shrugged. “We were having fun. Smoking some bud and drinking. I didn’t know she was such a lightweight. She had a lot of shots and a few puffs from the pipe. Not much of a partier. She went out pretty fast.”

“This is the second time since we got here that she’s gotten messed up. Maybe I should talk to her about having one drink if she goes from zero to drunk.” I shook my head. “Thanks for bringing her outside. It’s very gentlemanly of you,” I said dryly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the backseat’s window. “Tell her I’ll call her later when she wakes up.”

I nodded and watched him disappear into the mass of bodies.

Jason cleared his throat, reminding me he was still there.

My glare flicked to him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He laughed, not out of humor. “Who are you, my mother?”

It was my turn to laugh. It sounded bitter. “Never mind. Forget it.” I walked to the front of the car. Jason put his hand on my wrist, stopping me. My skin felt feverish, like a flame was working its way through my cold body.

My gaze went from his eyes to the hand encircling my wrist. He didn’t let go, wasn’t backing down.

“Why did you leave the seafood restaurant?” he asked in a low voice.

I felt my eyebrows meet in confusion. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I wanted to talk to you and you vaporized. Why?”

I took a step toward him. “I didn’t like being there, o-kay? The food sucked and my friend ignored me. I didn’t see a reason to stay.”

Something flashed across his eyes. It almost looked like pain. “I see,” he said coldly.

“If you don’t mind, I should be getting Amelia home.”

“Sure. Are you going to be okay taking her inside the house by yourself?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but stopped. “I don’t know. If she’s totally out of it, I won’t be able to carry all her weight.”

He gave me a let’s-be-friends look and said, “Do you want me to come too? I could help you bring her inside.”

Is he playing me?
It was a nice trick to learn where we lived. “Why should I trust you?”

A switch flipped in him. His face went from friendly to regretful. “I was trying to be polite. If you want to drag your friend into your house, it’s fine. That’s your decision.” He stomped away, going back to the party.

“Wait,” I called.
Why do I feel like I need him to stay?
He turned, looking a question at me, waiting for me to speak.

“I’m sorry. If you’re still willing to help me with Amelia, I’ll happily accept,” I said, looking over his head instead of meeting his eyes. Those silver eyes, like the moon. That bone structure. Those lips puckered in irritation. He was…gorgeous.

“You’ll happily accept? Is that possible?” he asked, tilting his head to study me.

I kicked a rock. It skipped into the street. “You’re mocking me.”

“Maybe,” he said, almost giving me a smile. “I’ll follow you in Hunter’s truck. In case I lose you, write your address down for me.”

I was desperate.
Thanks a lot, Amelia.
She was going to hear about this when she recovered. Until then, I had to play nice with Jason. I reached into the car for a napkin, scribbled our address, and gave it to Jason. He took the napkin and went for Hunter’s truck. I got into my car with a heavy heart. Why was Jason kind enough to offer help with Amelia?

He’s helping you bring your friend inside so you don’t drag her lifeless body and hurt yourself.
The voices in my head were off to the races.
Maybe he’s going to try something there. Or perhaps he really is a gentleman. What does the house look like? Is it up to par for a random guest?

I shook my head and turned up the music. Amelia was passed out so I could jam to whatever I pleased.

Headlights caught my eye as I turned off the main road. Jason tailed me, like he said. I couldn’t make out his face through the shadows. I could check out part of the truck. It was black and had some design painted on its body. The truck was also extremely tall, almost monster tall, the kind built to run things over. Thankfully I was in a strong, fast car.

Jason parked behind me at the house and came to my car without a word. He carried Amelia over his shoulder, fireman style. It was impressive and made things low in me clench. I guided him to her room and he laid her on the bed. He nodded to me and was gone. He never took in the place or stopped to say good-bye, just took off.

Maybe he’s showing you how he felt when you left that seafood place
. That was ridiculous. If he cared, that meant he liked me, and he didn’t…did he?

Chapter Five

Amelia was still fast asleep at noon. To kill the time, I decided to call my mom. I knew she’d appreciate the gesture. After all, I was her only child.

“Hello?” My mother’s voice sounded breathy, as if she had to run to get the phone.

“Mom?” I asked, sinking into my leather chair in the living room.

“Syd? Hey, baby, what’s up?” She sounded joyful when she knew it was me.

“Nothing much. Why do you sound out of breath?”

“I was outside doing laundry when I heard the phone ringing.”

I was right. “Okay.”

“How’s your vacation going? Does Amelia like Malibu? Grandma’s beach house still in good condition?”

Currently my best friend is passed out on her bed. I’ll have to ask her later.

I couldn’t say that, so I came up with something simple. “The beach house is fine. And Amelia is having the best time. She loves surfing.”

My mom laughed. Her laugh always made me smile. “I’m glad.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m hanging in there.”

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. “Do anything fun lately?”

“Does going to the movies count?”

“Sure.”

Her voice sounded like honey. I liked hearing she was okay while I was away.

She said, “Then yeah, I did.”

The coffee pot was full of sweet, black coffee. I poured some into my mug. “You should go out more, Mom. Meet some guy and—”

“Sydney, we have already had this conversation.” Her tone quickly became harsh, almost bitter.

“I know…”

“I have some news about your father.”

My stomach knotted itself together. I took a quick sip of the hot coffee and said, “I don’t want to hear about your ex.”

I referred to my father as my mom’s ex because I didn’t like to accept he was my dad. He wasn’t there for me. Well, I guess he was, but not in the ways a father should be. Just existing and lying in bed most days didn’t count. He hasn’t lived with us for five years. I wasn’t sure how he was anymore.

“You’re going to regret being cold-hearted to him one day. Learning about his cancer should bring you two closer, not drive you further apart.”

I looked down at my coffee, wishing I could drown in it than have this conversion. “I know. People keep telling me that, but I don’t care.”

She clicked her tongue. “I’ll drop it if you don’t want to know.”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.”

A sigh escaped my lips. “Fine, lay it on me.”

“His cancer is shrinking. The tumor is half the size it was when it was first found.”

I placed my mug on the counter and sat at the bar. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, it buys him some more time. But he’ll never be cured.”

“I know,” I said flatly.

“Well, the dog wants to go for a walk. I’ll catch up with you later. Thanks for calling me.”

“No problem. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up and sat the phone down next to my cup.

I downed the rest of my coffee and abandoned the mug on the counter. My throat tingled from the heat, but it was good to feel something. I went into the living room and sunk into my couch.

I wished she hadn’t brought up my father. The topic depressed and frustrated me. My father was diagnosed with liver and colon cancer three months ago. He could’ve avoided it if he went to the doctor more than once every ten years and stopped abusing meth and alcohol.

My mom and I never knew he had been using meth for years. He wasn’t bouncing off the walls or talking up a storm. Instead, he pissed himself off in seconds and physically injured my mom, threatening to kill her. He’d punch holes in the walls and break anything nearby, mostly knick knacks and a movie or two.

The man was also paranoid and saw things. Once he convinced himself a cop was in our carport, spying on him. Another time he swore cameras were hidden in the palm trees across the street, trained on him.

But who was I to judge? He was only my father, the man who was supposed to protect me.

People liked to remind me I should forgive him for what he had done to me and move on, that his cancer should bring us together. I heard that from everyone. On some sick note, I wanted him dead and gone. That way I didn’t have to think about him. To me, he died when I was ten. That’s when he stopped caring about his family and his life and refused to go to work.

When I thought about caring for him, all the painful memories came flooding back. In particular, I remember how he was childish and pushed me when I had fallen after twisting my ankle in a hole the dog dug when I was eleven. Then my father acted like he was five and ran around the house like an annoying little brother.

If he was a true father, he would’ve carried me into the house and got me ice. No, I got pushed and laughed at. Mom had it out with him when she came home, telling him he should take care of his daughter. It was one of many fights that ended their nineteen-year marriage.

When I felt bad for him, the memories brought my hate back to the surface. It was how I coped. Some said it was the wrong way, but it was my way.

What I needed was a perfect angry band to wash away the thoughts about my father and Jason. I turned to my iPod and listened to In This Moment. Sometimes, music is the only place a person can turn.